Stranger to this Land
by Jon'ic Recheio
Summary: The man snorted. "Geez, you're a demanding little flake. I'm Jordan Price. I have some information for O'Neill." He took another bite of his sandwich. "Besides I missed the old coot."SG1Highlander Crossover DISCONTINUED
1. Chapter 1

This is the story that my drabble Advanced, announced folks! So here it is in all it's glory! I think I have like five chapters or so, so far...

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It was cold outside, the snow flakes fluttered gracefully to the ground in the December air. The white landscape was beautiful making the whole park look surreal. The trees were leafless and the bark was turned a frosty white-blue color. There were a few brave souls walking in the foot of snow that had fallen. Children were playing in the park building snowmen and forts. All in all it looked like something out of a post card or fairy tale.

Except for one lone soul sitting on a bench on the out skirts of the park.

He sat, watching over the children and their parents, making sure there was no threat. He knew the land; and had lived in it for sometime now. He was a loner of sorts, with only three really close friends, and several others that were just friends.

The sun was hidden behind gray snow clouds, hiding the watcher's face under the shadow of a tree. It was the biggest tree in the park. The bench was covered in vines that were now just bare wood curled around it like a glove. You would not be able to see it unless you looked hard, but that was the point.

Some knew he was there, but not why. They knew the watcher, quite well; they were his three close friends, the very people that kept him in this life. He was over due to change but he did not wish too. He liked things the way they were. In this moment, change was a bad thing, a very bad thing.

The watcher could hear his friends' footsteps in the soft snow.

"Hey," one said softly, as he got within hearing range. "We've been looking for you."

"Yeah?" The watcher asked, not looking away from the children.

"Cassie was worried when you didn't show for the party." The friend spoke softly. "C'mon, Jack."

"Why, Daniel?" Jack said quietly.

"Because," the woman spoke for the first time, "sir, it would be nice to celebrate Christmas together. We didn't last year."

"Indeed." The big dark skinned one added.

"Fine. Carter, Teal'c." O'Neill levered himself up off the old bench. Casting one more look around the park he turned to his friends. "Lets go."

_

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_

_T__hree Weeks Later………_

The lightening subsided slowly and the air where it had struck smelled charred. There was a man lying on his back on the ground, staring up into the sky but not really looking at it. He gripped a sword in his right hand and could still feel the current running through him. The rush of the other he had killed was racing through him as well. It was overwhelming and it had knocked him for a loop, as it always did.

His grip on the sword tightened. He needed to get up, now. Slowly he levered his aching body into an upright position, most of his weight resting on his arms. With a low groan he slowly got to his feet, staggered for a moment, then his balance returned. Looking around the dark alley, he was only able to make out the brick walls, trash pile and dumpster.

Walking slowly forward he placed his left hand on the wall for support. He stepped into the empty street, his sword held in almost limp fingertips and dragging along the ground. He was getting tired of this. All of the fighting and death, as if he didn't see enough of it for a living. But, technically, this was his living too. If he didn't fight he would be dead, then he wouldn't be able to protect what was dear to him. He'd failed the people close to him before but he didn't intend to fail these mortals that he found himself so attached to.

They were the only reason he hadn't taken his own head by now. He would have if Daniel hadn't shown him he really did have a reason to live. A thought occurred to him and he sheathed his sword before someone caught him dragging it along like a stuffed animal. As he walked he was sure he was the picture of misery, he was full of it anyway. All he wanted was for the fighting to stop. He didn't want to take another head, or another life, but he knew that was impossible.

As long as the rest of the world remained in the dark then he would still have to fight. As long as he was the only one who knew the truth, fighting would go on. There wasn't a way to stop it, not yet.

It sucked at times, he realized. He fought to save them, to keep the world spinning and they tired to kill him. It was unfair, but then, he didn't want fanfare either; he just wanted everyone to stop taking each other's heads. Wanted 'the game' to stop. A heavy sigh escaped his lips. That would never happen, 'the game' would never stop, it couldn't. Every man wants power and there is more than one kind of power.

A lone car drove by, the only one he had seen in the past hour. He had spent the night running from the Immortal that was chasing him. Finally the bar he had left his truck at came into view. It was just sitting there in the parking lot with four other vehicles. Thrusting his right hand into his pocket he fished around for his keys. Finding the right one and stuck it into the lock. The tumblers turned and the door opened. Wearily he climbed into the truck and started the engine.

Pulling out of the parking lot he tried to forget who and what he was. Just for a moment he wanted to pretend that he was an ordinary mortal with no one after his head.

His house was dark, except for the light in his living room. Closing his eyes for a long moment he slowly got out of the black truck, trudged up the gravel path to his front door and opened it as if on autopilot. Walking into the house he pulled off his leather jacket and threw it on the couch. His sword was strapped to his back, the black case a stark contrast to his gray Air Force t-shirt.

Lifting the strap over his head he gently set the sword down by the headboard. Pulling up the loose floorboard under his bed he stashed the sword away from prying eyes. It wouldn't do for anyone to find it, unless it was his team, then he really wouldn't mind because it would give him a way to tell them what he really was. He wanted to, really did, just couldn't figure out how. He didn't want to say it out-right; he wanted them to uncover a piece of evidence for themselves. But it was hard because years and years of practice meant he left nothing in plain sight.

A loud crash from the living room interrupted his musings. Pulling the gun he had from its holster he crept into the living room. He saw a man sitting on his backside on the floor. O'Neill stifled a groan. He knew the man.

"Oh f'cryin' out loud!" he exclaimed instead. He glared at the black haired green-eyed man currently sitting on his living room floor. He was dressed in blue jeans, brown hiking boots and a loose fitting forest green t-shirt. "What are you doing here?"

"Hello, good to see you too!" the man snapped back, getting off the floor. He eyed the gun in O'Neill's hand with a raised eyebrow, "Didn't know you used guns…"

O'Neill gave the man a long-suffering look. "Get to the point."

"Oh, touchy," the man snorted. "Well, I just saw you kick the crap out of Don Andrews…"

"Oh, please!" O'Neill flicked the safety back on and re-holstered the weapon. "Do you always have to come and visit every time I take a head?"

The man looked offended. "Why shouldn't I? C'mon, Jon, you need a good pat on the back after those kinds of-incidents."

O'Neill rolled his eyes. "Look, Rick, I really don't have time," he glanced at his watch, "it's 0346 in the morning and I have to be at the base by 0700. I'm exhausted and really want to sleep."

Rick's shoulders sagged. "Sorry, buddy. But, I wanted to talk to you and…"

O'Neill let a small smile through. "Yeah, alright. You can crash in the guest room across the hall. We'll talk tomorrow after I get back from the base. Make yourself at home, as I'm sure you will…"

Rick's smile was genuine. "Thanks, Jon."

"No problem." Came the slightly muffled reply from down the hallway. Rick smiled and followed his assignment down it. He didn't like renting hotels and he knew that Jon would let him stay the night if he didn't have any money to rent. He traveled a lot sometimes and only got the odd job and it wasn't ever enough to get an apartment so he settled for renting out a hotel room when he could. He did have to follow Jon around the world so the least the man could do was put him up for night!

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Yeah, so this is the begining to my SG-1/Highlander Crossover. Oh, be warned my knowledge of the Highlander series is limited so none of the charecters are going to appear, this is centered around O'Neill and SG-1. PLease drop me a line!


	2. Chapter 2

OY! Sorry I posted the wrong chapter two before, this is the right one!

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The SGC was rather calm when O'Neill walked through the doors. There wasn't anything out of place, well not really. The elevator from NORAD was pretty much empty, however the SGC one was not. SG-13 and 6 were crammed into it. The General just shrugged and stepped in. He leaned against the back wall keeping an eye on the teams. He may not be able to go off-world as much as he'd like but he could still make sure they stayed safe planet-side.

Colonel Dave Dixon was among the passengers in the crammed car. He seemed to be exhausted and barely able to stand his resident archeologist's excessive ramblings. The man was going on and on about the ruins and was getting close to O'Neill's limit as well. He grit his teeth and let the man get it all out, because he knew if he didn't they would never hear the end of it. He knew this from experience because Daniel was, is, the same way at times. As much as he complained he really didn't mind the archeological missions. At least they made Carter and Daniel happy.

"General." Jack looked up from his study of the floor at straight at Dave. "Mornin' sir."

"Not good?" O'Neill quipped. Dixon grinned slightly. "Yeah, we've all been on one of 'those' missions."

Dixon's smiled widened a bit. "Yes, sir, I'm sure you know the feeling well." The Colonel's smile turned into a smirk. "You had to put up with Dr. Jackson for seven years."

O'Neill returned the smirk. "Oh, yeah. Don't get me wrong I like the guy like a brother, he just tends to go off on a tangent and never get to the point."

Dixon grinned. "I know. He was with our team once, when you were in the infirmary for that sprained wrist."

The elevator opened before Jack could answer. He stepped out and wished the teams a good night, or morning, and headed for his office. The halls were beginning to fill as he walked. He came upon the stairs to the briefing room and climbed up then. He walked into the room and noted that SG-1 was sitting around the large oak table. He gave them an inquiring look.

"Uh…good morning?" He said a little uncertainly. A thousand thoughts were racing through his mind, the most prominent being: Did I forget about a briefing?

"Good morning." Daniel answered snappily. "Do you know how long we've been waiting!"

"Uh…oopps?" O'Neill shrugged and cautiously lowered himself into the head chair.

Carter stifled a groan. "Sir, the briefing was scheduled for 0600." Jack winced. He'd completely forgotten! He had been running most of the night and then his watcher had shown up at his doorstep. He really didn't mean to forget, it was just getting hard to balance his two lives. He was out most of the night sometimes and didn't get a moments rest and it didn't help that he fought people and got zapped by lightning.

"Sorry." O'Neill sighed. "I forgot. Well, Daniel care to start?"

* * *

Geez what a day! O'Neill thought as he stepped into his house. He could hear the TV from the entranceway. It sounded like Rick was watching some daytime soap. He still didn't understand why the man turned the volume up so loud. What was stranger was he only did it when watching soap operas, go figure. He sighed and made his way to the den. He walked into the little doorless room and saw Rick camped out on the sofa with a beer in his hand and a bowl of popcorn on his lap.

"Hey, Jon." Rick greeted around a mouthful of popcorn. His gaze was fixed to the TV as O'Neill pulled off his boots and sat down in the leather lazy boy chair. "Good day at the base?"

"More or less." O'Neill hedged. His day had been okay, just hectic. He eyed the younger man for a moment. "So, you wanted to talk?"

Rick nodded and turned of the television. He set the bowl of popcorn aside and turned to look at Jack. "Yeah, I did."

The two sat in silence for a long minute. " 'Bout what?" Jack finally prompted.

"I, uh, got kicked out of the Watcher's Guild." Rick said softly. O'Neill looked him in the eye startled.

"Why?" He spoke just as softly.

"I interfered." He said at length. "They finally found out about the times I helped you and…"

"Yeah, I get it!" O'Neill gestured with his hands. "Ya know, they outta stop doin' that." He took a deep breath and tried to calm his emotions. "Who's my new watcher?"

"I don't know yet." Rick admitted. "I don't think I'll ever know."

"Huh." O'Neill stared intently at the floor. He knew that meant he'd have someone else watching him, someone he wasn't sure he could trust. He only trusted Rick because he'd saved his life and even that only went so far. "Well, at least you'll be able to keep a job."

Rick didn't seem too impressed about that. "But I don't want too! You're my friend, Jon! If you go I wanna go too."

O'Neill eyed the twenty-five year old for a moment. He sounded like a whiny five-year-old, not the man he knew he was. Not that he didn't like Rick, he did, and he was a good friend, just annoying. "Rick…you can't follow me around forever."

"Maybe I can." Rick sated seriously. "I may be an Immortal. I know the Watchers have been keeping an eye on me, that's how they knew I helped you."

Jack sighed and rubbed his forehead. "You might be, but don't go trying to find out! Because if you're not an Immortal you'll be dead!"

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Sorry again! Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

Ahoy,mates, chapter three has just sailed in from Writerdom! Please check it out and be sure to leave a record of your attendance before you leave. Aka, drop me a review!

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The restaurant was half-full when the team walked in. O'Neill scanned the crowd but didn't feel a 'buzz' He sighed in relief getting an odd look from Teal'c. He ignored it and promptly got them a booth. He sat with his back to the wall and eyed his teammates. Daniel and Carter were discussing something animatedly and Teal'c was just watching, like he was.

"O'Neill." Jack looked away from his survey of the entrance. "You seem on edge."

O'Neill stifled a groan. Damn observant jaffa! "Yeah, I guess."

Teal'c checked to see if Carter and Daniel were listening, they weren't. "Do you wish to discuss it?"

"Not really." Jack's back stiffened when he saw Rick enter the restaurant. He spotted him immediately and rushed over.

"Jon!" Rick stopped in front of the table. "Hey, fancy seeing you here. Who're your friends?"

This made Daniel and Sam stop their conversation. Jackson raised an eyebrow at 'Jon' but kept quiet. Who was this guy? How did he know Jack? He seemed okay, just slightly flaky and Jack usually didn't have friends like that, except for him of course. Yeah, he could be flaky at times, but from first glance, this guy was worse. His head was in the clouds big time.

"Daniel, Sam and Murray." O'Neill answered quickly. "So, what brings you here?" O'Neill motioned for Rick to sit next to him. "Food, or drink?"

"Funny." Rick deadpanned. "I was lookin' to make some money off the pool table. Fancy a game?"

"No, not really." O'Neill smirked. "You'd loose all the money in your pockets anyway, if you even have any."

"Low blow." Rick muttered. He turned to Sam. "You play?"

Carter smirked. "You bet."

"I will, twenty greenbacks." Daniel snickered. Rick looked at him confused. "What?"

"That's Sam 'Pool Shark' Carter." Jack clarified. Rick's eyes lit up further if that were possible. O'Neill knew the guy was a pool master; he'd barely beaten him when he played, but he didn't think he was better than Carter. Though he didn't know because he never played her either, just watched. Still it would be fun to watch, and it seemed Daniel and Teal'c agreed. "Good luck."

Rick's grin turned feral. "Oh, yeah." He shimmied out of the booth, Sam and the rest of the group not to far behind. As they got closer to the table O'Neill felt a 'buzz'. Crap! He thought. I do not need this now! He spotted the man who was the cause of it. He was tall and looked to be a biker, his black hair was pulled back in a ponytail and his gray eyes were cold, his leather jacket was just below belt level and his black jeans were faded.

O'Neill walked up to Rick and laid a hand on the man's shoulder. Rick got the message and looked over to the man O'Neill had spotted. Oh, yeah, definitely not good. The guy looked like he could carve Jon in half! But he knew he really couldn't, Jon could kick his ass from here to Iraq, then back again. Rick smirked at the imagery. That would be a fun fight to watch!

Teal'c noticed the interaction and was again confused. Whoever this 'Rick' was he knew something that they did not. O'Neill had been acting 'odd' ever since the Christmas party at Cassandra Fraiser's. He was distant and tired, and forgot some details. He seemed to be world-weary; something the ex-jaffa never thought he'd see in his warrior brother. Something was definitely going on and he would find out what.

O'Neill's attention was divided between the game and the Immortal who was eyeing him from the bar. The big man seemed to be talking to one of his friends. Suddenly he stood and walked over towards them. Jack's stance tensed and he shifted to defensive. He carefully searched the man for weapons; he wasn't carrying a sword, but a machete that was tucked into his left pant leg, much like O'Neill's sword. He really didn't want to fight the guy; he just wanted to have a fun evening with his friends, f' cryin' out loud!

Daniel noticed the guy's approach and nudged Sam, but she just went back to her game trying to look normal, so Daniel took his cue and tired to do the same.

But it wasn't that easy. The biker had to be at least as big as Teal'c, maybe bigger. He commanded attention and it was hard not to stare. He could see both Jack and Teal'c sizing up the guy in case they had to fight, and from the way he looked they just might.

"Hello." O'Neill greeted with false cheer. Rick looked amused and watched out of the corner of his eye; he didn't want to lose the game!

The man just grunted. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh, eating." O'Neill gave the man a 'duh' look. "What do you think?"

The biker glared. "This is my town."

O'Neill snorted. "Yeah, right, and I'm the king of Siam!"

Teal'c shifted closer to O'Neill to cover his flank in case the guy had friends. It wouldn't be good if they got hit on the back of their heads.

The biker glared. "Don, what happened to him? You were the last to see him."

"Don, who?" O'Neill looked amused. "Man, you've got the wrong guy, I don't know a 'Don'."

"My brother!" the man growled. He took a step forward and into O'Neill personal space, their toes almost touching. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing." O'Neill answered, his eyes cold and his expression controlled. He glared at the man, trying to get him to back off. "Ask your watcher, or his, I'm sure they'd tell you."

Rick's eyes went wide. What was he doing? Asking for them to find out? Oh, yeah, that's what he wanted. Rick mused ruefully. He wanted them to find out, he didn't want to tell them out of the blue, he wanted to ease them into it in the hope that they wouldn't try to kill him. He snorted, yeah, right, like they wouldn't be angry! The Daniel guy and his pool opponent would be pissed off big time!

"I did." The man growled low. "And he told me you took his head."

"That's nice." O'Neill quipped, his stance shifted. "But he came after me."

The man seemed to think, them stepped back. He glared angrily at O'Neill. "You'll pay." Were the softly spoken words as the guy walked back to his friends and beer. O'Neill released the breath he didn't know he holding. That was close, way close. He didn't mind his team knowing, but he'd rather the rest of Colorado Springs didn't!

Rick's shoulders sagged. One disaster avoided there! He mused wryly. It would have been amusing to see them beat the crap out of each other, but then, they were in a restaurant and there were people around who didn't need to know about Immortals. He looked up at Jon's team; they were all staring expectantly at him. Rick sighed, oh boy, this is gonna be messy.

"Jon." He put his stick down and walked around the table and over to his friend. "This is gonna get nasty."

"Nah really?" Jack turned around quickly. He ran a hand through his already mused up hair. "Who was that anyway?"

"Ron Andrews." Rick supplied wryly. "Wonder what brought that on anyway. He hated his brother."

O'Neill shrugged. "Probably just jealous that I got to him first."

Daniel couldn't take it anymore. He pushed up off the pool table and walked briskly over to O'Neill. "Jack, what was that?"

O'Neill sighed and rested his head in his palm, the heel digging into his eye. Now that he had an outlet he didn't know what to say, or what to do. He wanted a chance like this, now it was here and he didn't know what to do. Tell them, or not? The two choices seemed so black and white before, but now they weren't. But he knew that if he didn't tell them he would be in big trouble for killing someone. He took a deep breath and looked up at his team.

"Not here." He finally managed. He picked up his beer from the table next to him. He started walking out of the restaurant, Rick right behind him and his stunned teammates not too far back. He didn't relish explaining the whole truth of who and what he was to them, but it needed to be done and he did want them to know. He opened the door to his truck and climbed inside, Rick ran around and got in the passenger side. It was going to be a long night, a really long night.

* * *

Daniel stared at the older man, his eyes wide with disbelief. There was no possible way for him to be over five thousand years old! That just wasn't possible, it couldn't be! Jack O'Neill was not that old, he was just a man, he wasn't a Goa'uld, was he? Oh God what if he was? No, Jackson, he's not! Don't even go there. Your best friend is not a Goa'uld, he couldn't be, Sam would have known, right? But what if he didn't have any Naquadah? Stupid, Jackson, the MRI would catch it! He's not a Goa'uld. Then what is he?

"Sir…" Carter started after a long uncomfortable silence. "Are you sure you're alright?"

O'Neill gave her an annoyed look. "Yes, I'm sure I'm fine, beside the fact that I haven't had a decent nights sleep in three days."

Teal'c seemed troubled. "I do not understand O'Neill. You could not have lived five thousand years, no Tauri can."

"I can." O'Neill snapped. "Look, I can prove it!" He looked over at Rick, who blanched. "C'mon, Rick."

"Nuh uh, no!" Rick protested. "I will not kill you, sorry."

"Rick, c'mon!" Jack wheedled. Rick's eyes rolled but he got up off the couch and fetched O'Neill's side arm. Teal'c saw the intent and lunged for the man. But before he could reach him, a shot rang out. Teal'c turned to see O'Neill's eyes roll into his head and slump over on the couch. There was a bullet hole on the left side of his forehead. The bullet had impacted his brain and killed him instantly.

A pool of blood began to gather on the couch and O'Neill's clothing. The four stood in the room stunned, one holding a smoking gun. Teal'c just stared. He friend was slumped dead on his own couch, killed by one of his own. He felt a rage building up within him. How dare he do this! How dare him! Teal'c turned on the man, who was standing there, gun still poised and ready to shoot. He looked as stunned as the rest of them. But, not for the same reason.

He'd almost shot Murray! God, he needed to be more careful! He stood looking at each person in turn; they were all to stunned to move. He licked his dry lips and noticed that Daniel had tears running down his cheeks, the poor guy didn't even notice. God, he so hated doing this! He'd had to do it two times before and it was still an unpleasant job. And this time it wasn't even worth it! He didn't need to kill Jon! That was a stupid ass choice on the Immortal's part.

A cough interrupted all of their stunned thoughts. Teal'c was the first to move. He quickly ran over to the couch and sat by his friend. O'Neill coughed again, then groaned. He could feel a monster headache but other than that he was okay. He blinked and opened his eyes. He could see Teal'c, Daniel and Carter crowding around him. He managed a weak smile. "Believe me now?" He croaked.

Daniel stood slack jawed. What the hell? Was his only thought. Jack was dead, now he's alive? Believe him? What? Huh? He rubbed at his red eyes and looked down at his friend, who was now sitting up straight looking as if nothing had happened. He had a smug look on his face and was grinning widely. The guy looked proud! What the hell!

"Jack?" Daniel ground out feebly. "What the hell?"

Rick snorted. "He wasn't lyin' Jackson. He's an Immortal and can't die, well he can but I think he'd rather keep that to himself- for safety reasons."

Jack glared at the ex-watcher. "As Rick, oh so delicately put it, I'm immortal." O'Neill groaned in frustration at their still stunned faces. "Guys, snap out of it f'cryin' out loud!"

The tone in his voice made Sam snap back to reality. "Sorry, sir." She said quickly. She fixed O'Neill with a glare. "I don't believe you! You hid this from us! Why?"

"How was I supposed to tell you?" O'Neill snapped back. "Look, Colonel, I don't have to explain why, you just have to believe me. I'm not asking for you to still trust me, hell, you don't even have to be my friends if it makes you feel better! You just have to believe what I said and what I showed you was truth and that it was real."

Teal'c chose this moment to speak. "I believe you O'Neill. How could I not? You have proven that you can indeed live forever."

"What's your real name?" Daniel asked all of the sudden.

O'Neill scoffed at this. "Like I'm gonna tell you! You'll ask me all kinds of questions that I won't be able to answer in a thousand years!"

Rick laughed at that. "Yeah right! You could answer just about any question he asked!" At O'Neill's glare Rick went on. "Within reason of course."

"Do you know his real name?" Daniel asked Rick, the man seemed to know these things. "Who are you anyway?"

"I'm a watcher, or was." Rick answered ruefully. "And as for his real name, if I tell you he'll shoot me."

"Damn right." O'Neill muttered. The ringing of his cell phone stopped anyone from asking more questions. He muttered a string of curses under his breath and fished around his jacket pocket for the annoying device. He found it and quickly answered. "O'Neill."

_"Sir, it's Sgt. Harriman."_ The man's voice was static-y. _"There's a situation at the base sir. If you could bring SG-1 with you…"_

"I'm on my way." He answered quickly, shutting the phone. He got up from the couch and looked each person in the eye. "Rick, you stay here. SG-1 you're with me. We have a problem at the base."

Daniel gave his friend a curious look. "You're going to walk into the SGC with all of that blood on your face and shirt?"

Jack groaned and walked quickly down the hallway to his bedroom and master bath. He was never going to live _that_ down, that was for darn sure!

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Aye, there be chapter three, if ye enjoyed it, let me know!


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry! I accidentally posted the wrong chapter two! Go back and read it! Oh, and read this one too!

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SG-12 had been out of contact for three hours now. The mission to a once Goa'uld occupied world had obviously turned sour. The naquadah mine probably didn't have anything left inside of it, but they had banked on the chance, and look where it got them. Five men missing or dead is where. God, it was not fun when you make a bad command decision that looked good at the time.

The Stargate was inactive, the giant metal ring sitting there innocently. The thing had been the cause for so many of his problems. The gate had brought for the evil ones, the Goa'uld, that had killed his family and his entire village. He'd sworn to fight them, to make sure that they didn't kill anyone else. So far he was doing a lousy job at it. They were killing his people left and right. He'd lost so many teams to them, so many young men and women dead for no reason. Well, not no reason, just not a very good one. Freedom. He guessed it was a good a reason as any, but there wasn't ever a good reason for death.

He knew that death was pointless, but it had to happen, so maybe not so pointless. He knew that death for a cause was not so bad, but the sting never left. He could never rid himself of the stench and sting of death; it followed him like the blood on his hands. He couldn't forget the faces of all the people he'd killed. He didn't really want to forget them either, part of him didn't anyway. He could use the faces and memories to punish himself for killing them in the first place. All of the sniper work he had done was a good start; the many times he'd been a mercenary or an assassin.

He'd killed many for money and greed, god and country. He wasn't a good guy; he knew that, just no one else did. But strange as it was those who did saw him as good too, he didn't understand. He'd taken many lives for no reason, killed in cold blood and wouldn't hesitate to do so again. That scared him more than anything else. That he would kill someone in cold blood to save another. He would though. If it was to save one of his teammates he would do it in a heartbeat. That thought alone was somehow comforting amongst the others. Knowing that he could save someone close to him helped. At least he wouldn't fail all of his people; he would be able to protect those closest to him.

Footsteps jarred him out of his thoughts. O'Neill turned to see Daniel Jackson walk into the conference room. He offered the young man a half smile that wasn't returned and tried not to wince. God, they were angry with him! Very angry. Crap. He turned back to the window staring long and hard at the gate. He felt Daniel come to stand next to him and tried hard not to speak, trying to wait for the linguist to say what was on his mind instead.

"So…" Daniel breathed out. He didn't speak again for a long moment, trying to decide what to say. He really didn't know. What do you say to a man who's heard it all? "You're immortal."

O'Neill smirked but didn't turn to look. "Yeah, we've established this already."

"No, not really." Jackson shot back, his gaze fixed on one of the 'gate's many chevrons. "I still can't wrap my mind around the fact."

O'Neill sighed; he cast a quick glance in the archeologist direction. The man was standing there hugging himself. He swallowed and looked away. God, poor kid. His mind was probably working faster than his. "Daniel…I can't do anything more to help you believe it. You have to accept what is right in front of you. There is no hidden meaning this time, not really anyway."

"That's just it!" Jackson whirled around to face O'Neill. "What is the meaning? How are you immortal and I'm not? Why? I want to know! Why do people like you exist? What is the reason?"

Jack blew out a long breath and turned to face the troubled mortal. "I don't know why I'm immortal, Daniel. But I know why we exist. To protect. We're supposed to protect Earth, from what I have no idea but it's our purpose."

Daniel stood silently, his eyes boring in the Immortal's. He didn't know if what Jack had said was true, but he didn't know otherwise at the moment. All he knew is what he was being told and that wasn't enough. He needed more, needed to know all of this so he could make a judgment. This was his friend and he didn't want to rush into anything. He didn't want to make a decision or form an opinion on only half the facts, it would help no one.

"How do you know?" Daniel said softly after a pregnant pause.

"I was here when Ra first came." Jack said just as softly. "I watched his ship land, watched him kill those that refused him as their god. I was one of those killed. I was the only one in my village who woke up. I was alone and scared and didn't know what to do, until I met this jaffa. He taught me things that I never thought I would know. Told me of far away lands and of my purpose here." He stopped to look over the confused and curious man beside him. "Now I know he really wasn't a jaffa, he looked like an Ancient. I didn't know any better then, but he taught me. I don't know why he chose me, Daniel but he did."

Daniel was confused, and yet he was amazed. He knew an Ancient! He met one and talked to him, like a friend. Just like Oma. It might have been her. He was startled at this. Was it her? Or was it someone else? The questions seemed to be endless and the answers few and far between. He sighed heavily and looked his friend in the eye. "Who was it really?"

"Oma." Jack had a small smile on his face. "Imagine how I felt seeing her again. God, it was a head rush! I was stunned! I had no idea! I know she's not a guy, but hey they can take any form they want. And back then I would have only listened to a man."

Daniel nodded mutely. "Yeah, I can see why." He looked up from his scrutiny of the floor. "So, what was it like living then?"

"Stinky, smelly and violent." Were the first words out of the older man's mouth. "It seemed death was around every corner then. The jaffa were always killing somebody. They had no air conditioning and you had to walk everywhere if you weren't rich. Most of the lower class were slaves or servants. War seemed to be a favorite pastime. It was not a fun place to be."

"Did you help build the pyramids?" Daniel asked excitedly. O'Neill smirked, that was the Daniel he knew.

"Uh, yeah." Jack's smirk turned into a smug grin when Daniel's mouth fell open. "Those stones were some of the heaviest things I have ever had to carry."

Daniel was still to shocked to speak. Jack helpedbuild the pyramids! It was running through his mind like a mantra. He couldn't believe it. His friend had lived through history, hell, he was! Jack O'Neill was history! He was five thousand years old and he helped build the pyramids! Heaven help us all! He thought wryly. He'd lived in Egypt during the time of Ra and the Goa'uld. He was taught by an Ancient and couldn't die, well permanently, oh he could, but he had no clue how. Which, considering, was a good thing. Then a thought occurred to him. "Why haven't you recruited Immortals to the SGC?"

The General's face darkened and his eyes turned cold. "Because I can't. I'm the only Immortal that knows about our real purpose. The others think it is to fight to rule the world. There's a 'Game' we fight each other trying to take the other's head, literally. They think that if you are the last living Immortal you will gain some kind of power."

Daniel could feel the contempt dripping off the words as they were spoken. Jack was really torn up by this. He thought. He guessed he would be too if he had to live for five thousand years killing people. That thought sent a chill down his spine, he didn't think he could. It was hard to take a life, he knew that and he knew Jack did too.

"Is that why you're so tired sometimes?" Daniel asked quietly.

O'Neill let out a breath. "Yeah. Some nights all I'm doing is fighting and running for my life. Sometimes it's so hard that I just want to curl up and die. But I can't, because I have a duty, one I don't intend to forsake. I took an oath and I will fulfill that oath."

Daniel just nodded mutely. Then his head snapped up. "Oh god! That was why you forgot about the briefing this morning! What happened last night?"

"I got cornered in a bar." O'Neill answered, his voice even. "He chased me most of the night until I got tired of it and fought him. He's gone and here I am able to tell about it."

Daniel swallowed hard. God, he couldn't even begin to imagine going through something like that on a daily basis. He didn't really want to. He liked his life the way it was. He didn't have to kill people to stay alive; he didn't have to run for his life and that of someone else's every night. He couldn't even dream of doing such a thing if given the choice, he'd rather be dead than that. He could see at times so did Jack, but he wasn't too worried, the man was honorable to a fault and couldn't really take his own life, permanently anyway.

God, there was a fun thought! Jack shooting himself to just try and be dead for the moment, to make it so that nothing mattered. The thought made him sick at his stomach and he wondered if he should knock before he walked into the man's bedroom. He didn't want to find a corpse on the floor. Okay Jackson, enough of that! Think happy thoughts!

"I'm sorry." Daniel finally croaked. "I was angry at you, I shouldn't have been. I should have been glad you were safe, not headless in some alley."

O'Neill nodded, "Yeah, but I can't say I was surprised." He shrugged. "I've been in hot water before because of stuff like this. It's not a big deal."

"It is to me!" Daniel interrupted. "I just learned my best friend is risking his life by walking out his front door! It's not fair!"

"Daniel…" Jack tried to find the right words to say. "Everyone risks their lives walking out of their front doors. And they think nothing of it. I know it's not fair but some things just aren't. You just have to suck it up and get over it."

Daniel turned away, angry at the world and the people who had hurt his friend, his big brother. He wanted to knock their skulls together and teach them a lesson, but he knew that Jack wouldn't want that, and that he couldn't. He sighed angrily and turned back on his heel to face his stone-face friend. He really didn't have the words to say what he wanted. Jack would get a kick out of that. He thought suddenly. Him, an accomplished linguist not having the right words to say. He snorted at that, Jack had said that before.

"Yeah…" He breathed. He cast an angry look at the Stargate. "Who are you sending out after SG-12?"

"Us." At his confused look O'Neill went on. "SG-1, I'm going with you."

Daniel smiled. It would be like old times, the times he so sorely missed. "I'd like that, we all would."

"Good."

* * *

Rick threw the remote down to the floor and paced the room. It had been a while since Jon had left and he was getting nervous. He hated it when he didn't know where his friend was. It made him uneasy and he got scared. What if he was dead? What if he left? What if he didn't? God what if an Immortal came after him? Good lord that would be a disaster in the making. He pitied the man that did though, he'd have to answer to Jon and that would be a sight to see.

A loud bang and the sound of glass breaking snapping Rick out of his pacing. Shit! Someone is breaking in! He ran to the sofa and pulled out the gun from earlier. He held it with practiced ease and crept towards the sound. He rounded the hallway and was slowly making his way towards the kitchen. He could hear someone pottering around inside of it and he stopped.

It sounded like they were into the fridge. His eyebrows rose at that but he kept quiet. Carefully he peeked around the wall and saw a man in a black coat, with a gun in his left hand, a sword under the jacket, his blond hair stood out against the black, and he seemed to be making a sandwich. Huh. Rick crept around the corner and aimed the weapon. He was about to speak but the intruder beat him too it.

"I was wondering when you'd work up the guts to walk around the wall." He spoke, not turning around. Rick stifled a groan, god could he not sneak up on someone? "Oh, and for your information, I will pay for the window." This time he did turn around, taking a big bite of his ham, cheese and lettuce sandwich. He swallowed it and leant against the counter top. "Ya know, Jack told me about you, said you were a flake. He didn't say you could handle a gun."

Rick still kept said firearm aimed at the man's chest. "Yeah, well, it's a new skill I acquired." He glared at the blond-haired, brown-eyed man. "What are you doing here? And just who the hell are you?"

The man snorted. "Geez, you're a demanding little flake. I'm Jordan Price. I have some information for O'Neill." He took another bite of his sandwich. "Besides I missed the old coot."

Rick lowered the weapon, noticing that Price hadn't even raised his. "Okay, what kind of information?"

"That's none of your concern!" Price snapped. "Look, just tell me where he is and this can go down with out anyone getting shot."

"I don't know where he is!" Rick shot back. "He left for the base eight hours ago, I haven't seen him since!"

Jordan nodded. "Okay, fair enough." He threw the remainder of his sandwich into the trash. "See ya." He jogged over to the window and climbed out before Rick could stop him.

"Damn!" Rick cursed as he watched Price ride away on his motorcycle. "Jon is so gonna kill me."

* * *

Well, here is chapter four to make up for my little blunder earlier! Please drop me a line.


	5. Chapter 5

This chapter is a little short, but oh well...here it is. And note, I didn't feel up to really looking hard at it to edit it, I just wanted it posted. So, if anything is wonky, sorry about that. They shouldn't be bad enough to make you stop reading however, just make you roll your eyes or somesuch thing...

* * *

The underbrush was thick, so thick that they had a hard time getting through it. He ducked a branch that almost clubbed him in the face and kept going. They needed to get to the ship; they had to rescue SG-12. He wasn't going to let any more of his people die, not if he could help it. He knew that he really shouldn't be going on a search and rescue mission but he just felt he needed to. He couldn't explain it, he just _had_ to go.

Voices could be heard in the distance and O'Neill knew that they were getting close. He heard the crunch of leaves and twigs behind him as he led the team towards the camp. The trees began to thin out and they could see a Goa'uld ship sittng in the middle of a smoking clearing. He could see the jaffa and many gliders in the clearing, but couldn't get a bead on SG-12. Pushing a side his frustration he inched over to the rise about ten feet to the left of him.

He leaned his binoculars on the edge and peered into them. Ah, there they are. He thought. They were chained with a metal bar under their arms, keeping them above their heads. The team leader, Colonel Jensen, looked a little worse for wear but other wise okay, the rest of his team had various cuts and bruises but nothing too serious. He took stock of the jaffa's position and noted that they would need a diversion, a big one.

"Reynolds, this is O'Neill, come in." The General spoke quietly into his radio. He waited for a few moments then heard the static sounding voice of SG-3's team leader.

"This is Reynolds, I read you sir. Over."

"We've got a little problem." O'Neill informed him. "I've got SG-12's position but they're heavily guarded. Over."

"Yes, sir, I see it too." Reynolds replied. "We could try setting charges around the ship, General. It might keep them occupied long enough for us to take out the jaffa guarding SG-12 and get them and us out alive. Over."

"Yeah…" O'Neill breathed into the mike. "Okay, take two of Dixon's men and set charges on the east side. I'll take Carter and Higgins to the west. Over."

"Yes, sir." Reynolds answered.

O'Neill could hear the uncertainty in his voice; the Colonel didn't want him running around setting charges. Well, tough. he thought making his way over to Carter and Higgins. Sometimes things have to be done a certain way. He crept up to Carter and Higgins and informed them of the plan and the three set off, leaving Teal'c, Daniel, and three members of SG-3 and one member of SG-13 to cover their sixes.

The cover was getting thinner the closer they got to the ship. It was only the gold pyramid, but it still was guarded heavily. This was one of the times O'Neill was thankful that he was immortal. He could get shot and still come back for more, and right now he'd gladly die a hundred times if it meant rescuing SG-12. He carefully parted the bush and got and eyeful of jaffa boot. Shit! He thought. The guy is right on top of me! He silently pulled his zat out of its holster and put the jaffa out.

He sighed with relief and inched out of the cover of the large bush. He couldn't see any jaffa in the immediate area and motioned for Carter and Higgins to follow him. There were some rocks along the path to the ship, but now enough to cover them in a firefight. He ducked behind a small rock and tried to find the best way to the ship without the jaffa spotting them.

He found it finally. A route from the rock he was hiding behind, back into the tree line that came out right where he wanted to be. Using hand signals he directed the two officers over to where he wanted them. They were under the cover of the trees again as they stealthy made their way to the ship. Footfalls could be heard from a distance and O'Neill knew it was a jaffa patrol. Cursing silently he ducked behind a tree, making sure the other two had gotten cover as well.

Just as Carter ducked behind a rock and a bush the jaffa came upon their position. Jack waited on baited breath, praying that they wouldn't be discovered. For once their luck held out and the five jaffa walked away none the wiser. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and crawled out of his hiding place. He glanced over at Higgins and Carter, they were okay and he motioned for them to continue on.

They came to the ship's position after five minutes of uninterrupted travel. It looks bigger up close. O'Neill thought wryly. I wonder if the C4 is even gonna put a dent in it. Well, it had better. "Okay, Higgins. Carter, set the charges for fifteen minutes. I'm gonna check up on Reynolds." He thumbed his radio, "Reynolds this is O'Neill. Over."

"Sir, this is Reynolds, our charges are set sir. How long on the timer?" 

"Fifteen minutes." O'Neill whispered harshly. "Set'em and go, Colonel. Over."

"Yes, sir."

O'Neill released the radio and looked towards Carter and Higgins, they were almost done, thank god. He could hear heavy booted feet coming their way. "Hurry up, we're about to have some company!"

"Done, sir!" Carter replied. He picked up her pack and helped Higgins strap his on. The three left the clearing just before the jaffa arrived. Another disaster averted. O'Neill thought relieved. He led the team back to the rendezvous point quickly. When they arrived they found things just as they had left them, with five minutes left on the clock.

"Dixon!" O'Neill hissed. "We've got five minutes before those charges blow! You know what you're doing?"

"Yes sir." Dixon answered just as quietly. "We're going down to the left. You and Reynolds can fight over center and right."

O'Neill gave a humorless chuckle. "Yeah…" He turned to Reynolds. "We've got center." Reynolds looked ready to protest then thought better of it.

"Yes sir, we'll take right." He grit his teeth and issued orders to his marines. O'Neill turned to Carter and Daniel, who both didn't like the center idea either.

"We have to." O'Neill said softly, so the others couldn't hear. "If I get shot I'll be okay in a few minutes, they won't."

"But, Jack…" Daniel protested. He saw the determined look in the older man's eyes and sighed. "You're right, but I don't have to like it."

O'Neill shrugged and made his way to the edge of the embankment. He perched his binoculars on top and peered into them. SG-12 was being interrogated; he saw the jaffa strike Jenson across the face and winced. He glanced down at his watch. They had two minutes and he prayed to God that it worked, or else SG-12 along with SG-1, 3 and 13 were in some deep shit.

Putting aside his negative thoughts he concentrated on the enemy lay out. He needed to memorize their positions before he went in there, it made the whole thing easier than having to constantly check their positions. He noted that there was about one hundred jaffa in the clearing and many more on board the ship, which was hopefully going to take serious damage. He spotted a jaffa close enough to see the mark on his forehead and he held in a groan. Why did it have to Anu? Why oh why oh why?

Control the urge to run down there and slay the evil bastard the General counted down the seconds until the C4 went off. He flicked off the safety on his P-90 s the count down neared thirty seconds. He glanced at his watch again. Twenty. Ten. He looked up at the ship and two explosions on either side erupted, creating chaos in the valley bellow.

The teams took this as their cue and sprinted down the ridge. O'Neill got to SG-12 first. He quickly broke the chains and helped the beaten and bruised team up the ledge. He could hear the discharge of P-90s and staff weapons behind him and prayed that he and SG-12 did not get shot. A blast impacted the ground ten feet from him and he quickened his pace as much as he could.

Glancing over he noted that Higgins and Thompson were helping the other members of SG-12 along with him. A blast came above his head and hit the ground in front of him, spraying him with dirt and rock. He felt one hit just above his eyebrow but kept going, trying to protect Lt. Carr, whose right arm was over his shoulder. He dodged another blast as the two made it over the edge. He pulled up Lt. Johnson and helped Higgins with his cargo as well.

"Get to the gate!" he ordered the six men. They didn't move. "Now! Or I'll shoot you myself!" That seemed to do it; they took off towards the gate, SG-13 not too far behind them. Jack turned quickly to see Teal'c assisting a limping Daniel over the edge. He grabbed the younger man's arm and helped Teal'c haul him over. "Get to the gate! Go!" Teal'c seemed to hesitate before going, holding up Jackson.

Carter and Reynolds men came up the embankment and the six of them raced for the Stargate and home. The jaffa were hot on their sixes as they dodged in between trees and bushes, trying in vain to loose their pursuers. Jack felt the heat of a staff blast hit the tree next to him, sending him spiraling onto the forest floor. He could feel a piece of bark imbedded in his left leg, but he pushed up off the floor and ran like it wasn't even there.

Finally the giant metal ring was in sight. The wormhole was open and the teammates ran quickly to it. Looking over his shoulder O'Neill could see the jaffa coming quickly. He reached down and yanked the long sliver of wood out of his leg before following Carter into the wormhole and to the SGC. He stumbled down the ramp, his leg still bleeding lightly but coming to a quick stop. He looked down to find the wound gone and collapsed onto the ramp. He sat on his butt taking in much needed air.

"Daniel!" he called over all the commotion. "You okay?"

"Yeah!" Daniel called back. "Just tripped. I think I sprained it."

O'Neill rolled his eyes and pushed himself up off the ramp. Leave it to Daniel to sprain his ankle on a search and rescue mission, he thought wryly. The kid couldn't keep out of trouble. Reminded him of Rick. Oh shit, Rick! Damn! He needed to get home! Looking around he noticed that everyone seemed busy. Taking advantage of the opportunity he slipped out of the gate room unnoticed.

* * *

Whew! All in one go, folks! And I'm still fighting with fanfic net trying to get chapter five of AL up, hopefully I shall soon win the fight, till then,

Jon'ic Recheio


	6. Chapter 6

Alas! It's chapter six of STTL! Amazing! I guess seeing Pirates of the Caribbean 2 has put me in a good mood. On with the chapter!

* * *

The house was eerily quiet as he walked through the front door. He pulled off his BDU jacket and walked towards the living room to find Rick sound asleep on the couch. The clock told him it had been a day since he had been home. He scratched the back of his head he knelt on the floor by Rick's head. He reached out a hand and shook the young man's shoulder trying to rouse him.

"Rick!" he called softly. "Rick, buddy, wake up."

Rick blinked his eyes blearily to see the fuzzy form of Jack O'Neill kneeling on the floor in front of him. He blinked again to clear his vision and looked into the smiling eyes of his friend. "Jon? When'd you get in?" he mumbled, pushing himself upright. He ran a hand through his messy hair and blinked again, then yawned.

"Just now." Jack answered, getting up from his kneeling position to sit on the couch next to his friend. "You okay?"

"Uh, yeah fine." Rick rubbed a hand over his face. Then memory assaulted him. "Jon, a guy named Jordan Price showed up early this morning. He said he had some information for you."

O'Neill sat in stunned silence a long moment. "Jordan? Huh. I haven't seen him in a hundred years at least." He stared at the floor, his forearms resting on his thighs and thought. What did a guy like Jordan Price want with him? What could he possibly have that would be worth telling him? What was Price doing? He sighed. He really didn't know, and that seemed to be the problem as of late. It could all be an elaborate trap to take his head or the young Immortal could really want to help.

He let out a breath and looked over at Rick, who was eyeing him carefully. "Did he give you a means to contact him?"

"Uh, no." Rick shifted nervously in his seat. "He, uh, just asked where you were…"

"Ah hell." O'Neill pushed up off the sofa and walked over to his phone. He pushed a quick series of numbers and waited as it rang. After the third ring the phone was picked up.

"Daniel Jackson."

"Thank you!" O'Neill thrust his free hand into the air. "Daniel, I need your help."

"My help?" Daniel squeaked. He really didn't want to get involved with Jack's other life, at least not at the moment. "With what?"

"A guy name Jordan Price. See if he signed into the SGC." O'Neill tapped the pen in his hand on the counter top impenitently shifting from one foot to the other as he waited for Daniel to get him the results. "C'mon, c'mon." He muttered under his breath.

"Uh, Jack…" Daniel started. "He did sign in, as a Dr. Price."

"Thank you." Jack sighed. "Tell him that the 'eagle's returned to the roost'."

"Okay, I'll have someone at NORAD get a hold of him." Daniel replied, his voice betraying his confusion. "Do I need to tape my head to my shoulders with duct tape?"

"No." Jack gave a small chuckle. "Thanks Daniel." With a solemn look on his face he hung up the phone and waited for Price. This was going to be one long day, he could tell.

* * *

Jordan Price walked confidently up the stone steps to O'Neill's front door. He was always best at hiding in plain sight, and he had done a spectacular job getting in NORAD, where he learned that O'Neill had already signed out. But instead of going right away, he'd stayed and gathered information, and was astonished at what he had learned. Travel to other planets? Goa'uld? He'd never dreamed of something like that!

Cautiously he reached out and rang the doorbell, hoping that the old coot had fixed the damn thing. He was in luck, he had. A minute or two later the kid from earlier had answered the door. Price gave him his most charming smile and waited for him to let him enter.

Rick rolled his eyes and stepped aside to let the young immortal in. He turned on his heel and walked away into the den. Price followed, but turned for the kitchen, as that's where the 'buzz' was coming from. He walked into the little space and saw O'Neill up ending a beer. He smirked and grabbed one from the open fridge, only to have a hand clamp down on his wrist.

He held still a moment and turned his head to look at O'Neill.

"Well?" The older man spoke first. "You here for a beer or do you actually have something intelligent to say?"

Price glanced down to the hand on his wrist then back up to the old Immortal's face. "Yes, actually." He yanked on his wrist, but O'Neill's grip was firm. He glared at the man. "Let go." O'Neill didn't move, his gaze boring into Price's. He stared down the young Immortal. He wasn't letting go until Price gave him the information he claimed to have. Price seemed to realize this. "Fine. I have info on who your new watcher is, along with a plot to take your head. Led by none other than Ron Andrews."

This time O'Neill did let go. He turned on his heel and walked out of the kitchen and into the living room, where Rick was waiting and watching TV. He collapsed onto the couch next to his friend and watched as Jordan took the recliner across from him. He knew that Andrews hated his guts, the only reason being he did what the guy wanted to do for him.

"So…" O'Neill took a sip of his beer. "What do you have for me?"

Jordan took a deep breath and started to speak. "I got a message from one of my friends in Andrew's circle. He wants your head and will do pretty much anything to get it. I don't know the exact details or where they plan on jumping you but I'd advise you watch your back. Oh, your new watcher is Major Paul Davis, ever heard of him?"

O'Neill let out a bark of laughter, startling the others. "Davis? You gotta be shitting me? Really? I know the guy, hell; I've worked with him on occasion. I had no idea he was a watcher."

Rick smirked and Jordan seemed impressed.

"Well…" Rick shrugged. "I guess that just leaves figuring out what Andrews has planned."

* * *

Major Paul Davis glanced slowly around the familiar elevator car. He'd been assigned here temporarily to observe and record none other than Jack O'Neill. He had no idea the man was an Immortal; he gave no outward sign whatsoever. He wouldn't have even pegged the man for it, and he had been in the watcher business for twenty years. He had many big cases most of them ending up dead, but still he was one of the best in the business, and if O'Neill had stayed off his radar then he had to be good.

The records didn't say how old he was, because they honestly didn't know. He had been around before the Watchers Guild. Hell, he probably was here when the Goa'uld were. Now there's a scary thought. Paul thought ruefully. The General was probably fighting them before Ra had completely taken over Earth. Wow. The thought was mind boggling, and from what he knew of the man, he probably was a main player in the revolt. He had read SG-1's mission report, he knew that they had started the idea, but Jack O'Neill must have been a part of that, had to be.

The elevator doors opened and the Pentagon liaison stepped out, his escort on his heels. As he walked the familiar halls pf the SGC he wondered just how many here were Immortals. Probably none, he thought with a grimace, because if there were, we would have had a couple of unexplained deaths on our hands. That thought made him shudder, he didn't like the 'Game' not at all. It was unimportant compared to what went on 'out there'.

He came upon the briefing room and noticed that General O'Neill wasn't there. Then he remembered the man had gone home after the rescue mission. He didn't like the fact that the General had gone, but he couldn't blame him, he would have gone too if it were him. He stepped into the conference room and looked around, it was empty, expect for the guard posted inside. He turned to his escort.

"I can take it from here, airmen." The man nodded and walked out of the room. Davis took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He matched over to the office and rapped twice on the door. He heard a muffled 'come' and opened the door. He saw Colonel Reynolds sitting the leather chair and grinned slightly. "Sir?"

Reynolds looked up. "Major Davis, have a seat." The Major nodded curtly and shut the door behind him. He walked over to the chair and sat down. Time to get his assignment, joy.

* * *

I'm shocked today! Chapter six! Sorry guys, WDMC will be a while, and I don't even know if I'll update this story again. I'm kinda lost at the moment, sorry. Anyway, Ancient Legacy WILL be finished. When I don't know, but it will. Please leave a review!


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